When communication styles collide: How culture shapes our emotions

‘Oh George, you look so tired.’ I bristled. My neighbour was right, of course. The past few weeks had taken its toll on me. But did she have to comment on it? I immediately shrugged it off, claiming I’d forgotten to touch up my make-up. I felt criticised. Judged.

But why? My reaction to a simple observation seems somewhat extreme. I began to wonder whether my emotional response, quite irrational, was in fact a cultural one. Could it have come from my still rather British sensibilities? Were they long overdue a rethink after 15 years of living in northern Germany?

Is our upbringing cultured?

When it comes to our emotions, cultural differences do indeed play a key role. The values each culture considers important influence the way we are brought up as children, in turn affecting our beliefs, attitudes, the way we feel, and thus communicate, as adults. 

For example, where directness and honesty are held in the highest esteem in Germany, politeness and reserve is the norm where I come from. It was quite a shock to the system when I first moved here. Everyone seemed to have an opinion on everything, and, what’s more, felt the need to tell me!

When my young children went out without a hat on, passers-by would exclaim, horrified, that they were inappropriately dressed for the weather. If a friend disagreed with my thoughts on a particular subject, I would be dismissively told, ‘Das ist falsch.’ Unsolicited advice also came hard and fast from all sides. The idea that it was their right to not only have an opinion on everything, but then also to say it, regardless of how it might be received, felt alien to me. 

This all jostled uncomfortably with my (admittedly conservative) upbringing, where tact and diplomacy were valued more than the unfiltered truth. Could this have been to my detriment? ‘If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all,’ was a favourite refrain, teaching us from a young age to first consider others’ feelings before expressing our own. But perhaps I also learnt to deny my own feelings and needs, doing myself a disservice in the long term.

A game of deduction

How do the Brits ever get their point across, you might ask. Back home, asking if anyone would like the last biscuit at teatime immediate illicits the response, ‘Oh, you have it, go on!’ My question is recognised by the British interlocutor as a polite request to eat the treats myself. Try that tactic on my (German) husband, and he eagerly accepts my hollow offer, leaving a trail of crumbs in his wake. ‘But you asked who wanted it!’ he mutters between munches. Reading between the very British lines is difficult if you have not grown up in this culture.

I might use a conditional tense to ask something politely. ‘Would anyone mind if we cracked open a window?’ is phrased as if I were requesting permission. As such, it can easily be met with a refusal – and lengthy explanations about the most efficient way to air out a room (and latterly, comments about energy prices). My being too warm is not inferred, because I did not state it in simple terms. If I had expressed how I truly felt and what I really needed, perhaps I would have received a different answer.

Watching my German friends bring up their children, I observe with wonder as they encourage them to say exactly how they feel. At school, a huge part of the end-of-year marks rests on how often the pupils contribute orally to class discussion. Furthermore, it seems to me that children are often on the receiving end of a somewhat sharper tongue, increasing their tolerance to criticism and helping them develop a thicker skin. The old adage of ‘children should be seen and not heard’ is just not in the cultural vocabulary. And having recognised this, I strive to motivate my own kids to be more outspoken, to say what they mean, and to take criticism constructively, rather than shy away from it. It is vital to succeed here. 

Cross-cultural acceptance

But I am still hesitant to completely abandon my intrinsic penchant for British politeness. There is a certain charm to maintaining a sense of restraint in the face of heated debate and contentious discussion. It allows me to observe and listen more closely, to weigh the merits of each argument, and to form a more thoughtful and nuanced opinion. Of course, there are times when it is important to speak up and make your voice heard, particularly when it comes to matters of justice and equality. But even then, I try to do so in a respectful and measured way, mindful of the feelings and perspectives of those around me. After all, being polite doesn’t mean being weak or passive – it simply means treating others with kindness and consideration, even in the midst of disagreement or conflict.

Recognising that both German and British societies have different norms and expectations around expressing their emotions can help us all communicate more effectively and build stronger relationships. My friend’s remark on how tired I looked needed to be considered in this context. Her matter-of-fact assessment was meant to draw me into an equally frank conversation about what was disturbing my sleep. She cared, and wanted me to tell her the truth. She didn’t expect me to brush it off or project a perfect, problem-free version of myself. Instead, she was willing to listen to my worries and offer support. She wasn’t judging me, and she wasn’t about to downplay my anxieties. I just couldn’t see it at the time.

In order to successfully navigate the cultural differences when it comes to our emotions, we need to be aware of them. Only then can we approach interpersonal interactions with openness and understanding. Ultimately, kindness and compassion can cross cultural boundaries with ease once we overcome our own internal biases and prejudices. When we make a conscious effort to empathise with others and understand their perspective, we begin to recognise the commonalities that exist between us and can connect with others on a deeper level – regardless of how we choose to express ourselves.